Ping Sang was small of stature and plump to a degree. He lay indolently
back in his luxurious, crimson-upholstered chair, resting his podgy feet
on a richly embroidered footstool.
His jolly, oily face was wreathed in smiles, and he blew great clouds of
smoke from between his fat lips as he slowly read this letter, his
little eyes twinkling with humour and with appreciation of his own
well-being and prosperity.
His fat little hands had short stumpy fingers, beautifully manicured and
covered with rings, which glistened and twinkled as he raised a dainty
Venetian glass to his lips. He was dressed in dark claret-coloured silk
robes, with pantaloons of light green, held together with gold knob
buttons and gold braid loops, and was undoubtedly a prosperous gentleman
and a dandy to boot.
On the opposite side of the fire, sitting bolt upright in an attitude of
keen nervous alertness, was Ho Ming himself, a tall, gaunt Manchu, whose
long thin fingers, with their prominent tendons, clenched rather than
grasped the carved arms of his chair. His light-blue silk over-garment
hardly concealed his attenuated figure, and his face was as gaunt as his
body, with thin, tightly drawn lips, deeply recessed eyes, and prominent
hooked nose.
Between them and behind a carved black wood table, supported by black
wood dragons, sat A Tsi, Ho Ming's comprador, almost hidden by the
clouds of tobacco smoke circling round him in the dull light of an
ancient bronze lantern which swung from the ceiling, and contained a
cunningly concealed electric light. He was dressed solemnly in black
silk, relieved only by gilt buttons. It was this man who for the last
ten days had been searching for any traces of the Pirate Syndicate's
intentions, and with several Cantonese sailors selected from his
master's vessels had mixed, both on board their ships and in the opium
dens and lodging-houses ashore, with all the floating population of
Hong-Kong.
"Helston and his ships should be here in a couple of days," said Ping
Sang, speaking in Chinese and handing the letter to the anxious Ho Ming;
"everything is all right so far."
"Now, Tsi, tell us again what you have been able to discover."
"Nothing, sir, beyond what I have already reported. There are two large
junks from Amoy at the Aberdeen Dock, whose crews are strangers to
Hong-Kong. Two days before their arrival an Englishman arrived by a
coasting steamer which had picked him up at Amoy, and he is now staying
at the Victoria Hotel, and one of my men has seen him go on board these
junks. From what I can find out, they have a much larger crew than is
customary."
"It is very unusual for junks to come down here from Amoy," interposed
Ho Ming, glancing keenly from one to the other, and hardly able to
restrain his impatience at Sang's apparent indifference or his
comprador's stolidity. "Those junks are probably full of explosives, and
it would be an easy thing to float them up against any of Helston's
ships in the harbour and blow them up. We must do something--we must!
Why, the ships may be here any time!"
"My dear Ming," smiled Ping Sang, waving a fat deprecating finger and
settling himself more comfortably in his chair, "we must not excite
ourselves--that's the only thing we can do at present. We've not the
faintest reason for suspecting either the Englishman or his junks;
still, we may be able to do some little thing."
"I think it might be wise, just for the sake of curiosity, to burn those
junks."
"But think of the law--English law; we are not in China now. ('Thank
goodness', or the equivalent in Chinese, piously muttered the
comprador). We can't bribe the magistrates here; and think of the risk
and the punishment."
"Well, well," continued Ping Sang soothingly, "we won't do it to-night.
To-morrow I'll try and get a look at this Englishman--I may know him and
he may know me. Have you seen him yourself, Tsi?" he asked. "Is there
anything peculiar about him?"
"No, sir; but the man who saw him go aboard at Aberdeen says he limped
badly," answered A Tsi.
"A limp had he? Well, I rather fancy I shall know him, and I rather
fancy he would know me," drawled Ping Sang, "though I'll take good care
he doesn't recognize me!"
* * * * *
On each side of the entrance to the Victoria Hotel is generally a motley
row of coolies squatting at the edge of the pavement with their mat
trays containing sweetmeats, matches, or sugar-canes for sale among the
rickshaw men who come and go. Among these, next morning, was a fat old
man in a dirty pair of blue trousers, with a dirty blue tunic tied round
his naked shoulders, clamouring for purchasers as he fanned a swarm of
flies off his sugar-canes with his broad mat hat. This was Ping Sang,
and all the while he kept his eyes glued on the hotel entrance. He had
bribed a coolie to give him his place for the day, and there he squatted
in this extremely uncomfortable position. Sportsman as he was, with all
his love of luxury, he never did anything by halves, and there he stayed
on the chance of seeing the lame Englishman, whilst the sweat ran down
his back, and even the morning sun blistered it.
Presently a coolie--and Ping Sang recognized A Tsi--came out of the
hotel and passed without apparently noticing him, but he had the
forefinger of his left hand extended, whilst the other fingers were
doubled up. That meant that the Englishman was not in the hotel. A Tsi
sauntered back again. Two fingers of the other hand were extended this
time. That was sufficient for the old gentleman. The Englishman had
gone to Aberdeen, where the two Amoy junks were anchored. Gladly rising
to his feet, Ping Sang stretched his cramped legs, slung his two baskets
across his shoulders with a bamboo pole, and trotted down the main
street, trying to imitate the usual ambling gait of a street hawker. It
was several miles to Aberdeen, and he slowed down very quickly, dropping
a sugar-cane every now and then to lighten his load, and eventually came
to the outskirts of the town and to the broad road which runs along the
edge of the sea. Finally he squatted down at a sharp bend of this road
in the shade of a big tree, and waited with his baskets in front of him.
He had arranged for A Tsi to follow him, and presently that invaluable
comprador came rapidly along in a tumble-down double rickshaw, still in
his coolie dress and with a big bundle under his arm.
After much haggling with the rickshaw man, who did not appreciate the
extra weight of Ping Sang's fat little person, the old sportsman got up
beside A Tsi, and the coolie drew them along, sweating and grunting.
Half a mile before they arrived at Aberdeen the busy little bay, crowded
with native shipping, came in sight, and A Tsi pointed out to his
companion two very large junks lashed together in the middle of the
harbour.
"These are the two from Amoy. They came in two days ago, and have not
yet discharged any cargo. In fact they don't seem to have any," said A
Tsi. "If you will wait by the landing-place I will go off to the junks
under pretence of selling this bundle of ready-made clothes, and try and
find out more about them."
They stopped the rickshaw some hundred yards from the centre of the
village, paid their grumbling coolie, and then Ping Sang trudged down to
the landing-place with his baskets of sugar-canes, and squatted by the
road-side, in spite of the hostile looks of the vendors already there.
A Tsi followed at some distance, got into a _sampan_, and was sculled
out to the junks.
Ping Sang watched him clambering over the ship's sides; but almost
immediately afterwards he noticed that a scuffle was going on and saw A
Tsi thrown overboard, and, missing his boat underneath, fall with a
splash into the sea, bundle and all. He swam ashore easily and
scrambled up the beach with a very rueful countenance, amidst the
shrieks of laughter of the coolies along the sea-shore, who had gathered
to see the fun.
As he passed Ping Sang he made a previously agreed-upon sign, which
meant that the Englishman was aboard, then he entered an eating-house
across the road.
Hardly had A Tsi disappeared when a rickshaw came rushing up, a Chinaman
jumped out, threw a piece of silver on the ground and ran down to the
water's edge, got into a _sampan_, and urged the boatman to hurry off to
the same two junks. Ping Sang just caught a glimpse of his face and it
seemed familiar, but where he had seen it before he could not think. He
watched him board the junks, and wondered whether he too would meet the
same rough treatment; but he did not reappear--he evidently belonged to
them.
The old gentleman racked his brains, but could not, try as he would,
remember that face.
An hour went by, the bell at the little dockyard rang out, and the
workmen poured out to their dinner, and Ping Sang, after his
unaccustomed exercise, felt very hungry, and longed for his usual
luxurious lunch and Manilla cigar. He even felt annoyed that he, one of
the smartest business men in the Chinese empire, should be such a
failure as a hawker, for no one would buy from him. In desperation,
hunger overcame his disgust, and he munched one of his own sugar-canes,
smiling grimly to himself at the unappetizing meal. Presently the crowd
was scattered by a double coolie rickshaw. The men, in gaudy uniform,
stopped close to him, and shortly afterwards, for he kept his eyes on
the junks all the time, he saw a European in a white helmet climb down
into a boat alongside and come towards the shore.
The _sampan_ rasped against the shore, and the white man stepped out and
slowly limped up the sloping landing-place, scanning the faces of the
men on either side.
Ping Sang's surmise was correct. He was one of the three men--the
Englishman of the "Mysterious Three"--whom he had mentioned in his first
letter to Helston--the most reckless adventurer of the lot.
Ping Sang thought there was little chance of his being recognized, but
took the precaution of pulling his broad hat over his eyes and bending
down over his baskets. It struck him too that his shoulders and back
were not grimed and blackened with the sun, and he was hastily pulling
his dirty tunic over them, when he was prodded heavily in the stomach,
his hat was knocked off, and standing above him was the Englishman,
bursting with laughter.
"Ask this man for his license!" shouted the Englishman, and a big Sikh
policeman did so. Ping Sang had not one--the one thing he had forgotten
in his "make-up"--and he fumbled in his belt to give himself time to
think. Out rolled two of his favourite cigars, wrapped in silver paper
(he had kept them to smoke on the way back after dark), and they were
worth more than a hawker could earn in a month.
He grabbed them hurriedly, but the policeman was too sharp for him, and
hauled him to his feet with an unmerciful twist of his pigtail.
"Robber! thief!" grunted the highly amused crowd, which had now flocked
round them.
Poor old Ping Sang was dumfounded, and though ready for most emergencies
when dressed in his usual clothes, had now not a word to say. In fact,
thoughts and words do not come quickly when your scalp is being nearly
torn off at every move.
The crowd made way as the huge Sikh shoved his way through, and Ping
Sang had perforce to follow, vainly trying to ease the strain on his
pigtail.
The Englishman came with them to the police station and charged him with
stealing the cigars, and before Ping Sang knew what had happened a pair
of handcuffs were snapped on his wrists and he was shut up in a room.
As the door closed behind him he heard the Englishman say to the
sergeant in charge:
"That's a double-dyed villain, sergeant; was a servant of mine once; had
to get rid of him for prigging my things. There's another of them
somewhere about, and if you'll lend me a couple of your men I'll have
him here in no time."
Poor old Ping Sang's heart went to his feet, for if A Tsi too were
caught, no one would know what had become of them. They might be in
jail for a week or more before being identified, and meanwhile Helston's
ships would arrive, and no word of warning could reach them except from
Ho Ming, who, he well knew, was useless in any emergency.
A Tsi, however, had seen the whole incident from an upper window of the
eating-house, where he had had his clothes dried.
The affair was evidently premeditated. Somebody must have given
information as to Ping Sang's presence there, and no doubt remained that
this European with a limp was the Englishman whom Ping Sang, the
previous night, had said he probably knew.
Now the old man was under arrest, and till he could be identified and
released any plan of action would be delayed, and so much time would be
gained by the pirate syndicate.
It was useless his going to the police station and stating that the
dirty old hawker was no other than the wealthiest merchant in China and
the president of the Trading Association, for he himself was a dirty,
disreputable-looking object, and would be probably clapped in jail as an
accomplice.
No; he must get back to Ho Ming as quickly as possible.
He crept down the rickety stairs and was just going out into the street,
when he saw the European with a couple of Sikh policemen coming straight
towards the house, led by some gesticulating men who had seen him go in
there.
It flashed across his mind that whoever had seen Ping Sang had seen them
together, that he was now going to be caught on some trumpery charge,
and he knew well enough that, unless he could escape, their predicament
might not be known for weeks.
He made his way to the back of the house, but the inn-keeper, already
suspicious of him, barred the way, and he fled up the unguarded stairs
again, looking eagerly for some place in which to hide, but the rooms
were as bare as a barn. He then ran to the rear windows to see if he
could jump to the ground; but even if he did so, there was no escape
from the yard behind, for two walls, too high to climb, ran back to the
face of the hill, which here was cut in a perpendicular cliff.
Already he heard the tramp of heavy boots up the stairs, and, in
desperation, was about to jump and chance scaling the walls, when he
suddenly noticed that next to this house was a small temple or
joss-house, and that a grotesque carving at the corner of one of the
projecting eaves stuck out within jumping distance. Once he was on the
roof of the temple he might climb across to some lower buildings behind,
and might possibly find some place to hide himself.
It was his only chance; so without a second thought he kicked off his
shoes, clambered like a monkey to the roof above him, crawled to the
edge, balanced himself unsteadily, and sprang for the gilded dragon
seven or eight feet away from him.
As he sprang he came in view of the street and heard a yell from the
crowd; but it only made him grip more firmly as he fell on the grinning
dragon, the rotten wood creaking and cracking as he drew himself on to
the top of the joss-house.
Moving cautiously along, he jumped to the lower buildings behind, and
saw, to his great joy, that they were built right up against the cliffs,
which were here much less abrupt and might possibly give some foothold.
If he could but climb to the top he would be able to reach Ho Ming
across the mountain; so, clinging to bushes and clumps of grass, pulling
himself up from rock to rock, he painfully made his way upwards.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw one of the Sikh police following him.
The man jumped from the roof of the eating-house to the joss-house; but
the dragon, already cracked, broke under his weight, and he fell into
the court-yard beneath.
This gave A Tsi a momentary start, for they now could only get on to the
roof by climbing the pillars in front of the joss-house, and this was a
difficult thing to do.
The crowd in the street began throwing stones at him and several struck
him, but in desperation he clambered up and up, forcing his bruised toes
into every crevice that would give foothold, now slipping and sending
down a shower of stones, now gaining a yard or two. His hands were
bleeding and numb with pain as he fought his way, till with a gasp of
relief he wriggled and wormed his way to the top, and with a last effort
swung himself over the edge and rolled breathless into some bushes.
Cautiously peering over the edge, he saw several coolies clambering
after him, whilst the Englishman and the Sikhs encouraged their efforts
from below.
Once they reached the top he knew that he would be captured in no time,
for with his naked feet and want of training he could not hope to
distance these sturdy coolies in a chase over the mountain-side.
As he clutched the edge, wondering what best to do, he accidentally
dislodged a stone. It rolled down and made the climbers hesitate.
Instantly seeing his opportunity, he wildly tore at everything he could
loosen and hurled it down on his pursuers. The foremost was hit on the
hand, and slid some feet before he could steady himself. Another had his
eyes filled with earth and sand, and then with great relief A Tsi saw
them all retreat, slipping and sliding to the roof of the joss-house, in
spite of the threats and cajoling of the police.
Then he saw the crowd streaming along the road, and knew his pursuers
would climb up some other way. Getting on his feet, he began painfully
pushing his way up the thickly wooded side of the mountain slopes. He
was now free from immediate danger, but must reach Ho Ming without a
moment's delay. He dare not descend to the main road, because the
police would be certain to be on the watch for him, besides which he
dare not go into the town till after dark, for he was bleeding from many
cuts, and his clothes were in tatters.
It was a terribly long way and terribly hard work to climb the mountain
to the Peak, but he must do it and wait till dark before striking one of
the roads running down to his master's house.
Hour after hour he climbed painfully and slowly, getting his directions
from the sun, and occasionally catching glimpses of the harbour beneath
him.
Presently he came to a large clearing, breasted the slope in front, and
saw the whole panorama of the harbour below him glistening in the sun,
and the dark mountain ranges of the mainland looming behind it. The
tiny boats moving backwards and forwards were the ferry-boats to
Kowloon, and like toy ships lay several English cruisers.
As he stood panting with his exertions, the boom of a gun came up from
below, then another and another at regular intervals. A man-of-war
saluting! He searched the harbour below him, but saw no sign of powder
smoke. Quickly he glanced towards the narrow waters of the Lyemoon Pass,
knowing that through this entrance men-of-war usually arrived, and then
from a little black, moving object on the water he saw a tiny ball of
white smoke shoot out, and presently the report came gently up to him.
Nineteen he counted, then twenty and twenty-one, and understood enough
to know that it was a foreign man-of-war saluting the British flag.
Throwing himself down on the coarse grass, he watched the black speck
moving nearer and nearer, and as it emerged from the dark shadows of the
Lyemoon Pass, he saw that it was followed by five others, the last three
mere dots on the sea.
Gradually the little squadron become more distinct, and he was able to
distinguish two cruisers with masts and military tops leading, a
merchant ship with short, stumpy funnel, and then three destroyers. At
last Helston's squadron had arrived, a day before it was expected, and,
unless he could give warning, the ships would run the greatest danger
before night was over.
Not a moment was to be lost, so painfully he pushed on, crawling round
rocks and shoving his way through the undergrowth till he came to the
outskirts of the villas on top of the Peak. Creeping behind garden
walls and thick hedges, he made his way, without being seen, to the belt
of trees and bushes which ran by the side of the road, among which he
hoped to conceal himself till dusk made it possible for him to descend
to his master's house.
Fortune, however, favoured him, for who should he see wobbling down as
fast as his fat little legs could carry him but that merry little tailor
Hong Sing, with a great bundle of clothes under his arm. He knew him
well, and called him by name as he came near. The little man gave a
frightened look round, and would have made off had not A Tsi seized him
by the arm and pulled him into the bushes.
When Hong Sing had calmed down he hurriedly explained matters.
Luckily the little man was returning from trying on some clothes for a
customer, and had in his bundle enough clothes to rig A Tsi as a
respectable-looking butler. He had no shoes, but Hong Sing knew where
he could borrow a pair from a house close by, and within half an hour A
Tsi was walking boldly down the road with his escort.
As they neared Ho Ming's residence A Tsi stayed behind, whilst Hong Sing
went on to reconnoitre; but all was safe, and at last the faithful
comprador had finished the first part of his task.
Ho Ming had already returned from his office, but it was very difficult
to make him act energetically. Like most Chinamen, he had the utmost
fear of the law and those who administered it. He was more polite and
obsequious to a police sergeant than to the wealthiest merchant in the
colony, and it was a long time before A Tsi could persuade him to take
immediate steps for the release of Ping Sang. He had not even heard of
the arrival of the squadron, and walked rapidly up and down the room
bemoaning the absence of Ping Sang and his own helplessness. "What can
I do? What can I do?" was all he could say.
"You go at once to the Chief of Police and bail out Mr. Ping Sang; they
will do it for you. Get them to telegraph to Aberdeen to send him up to
head-quarters with an escort. Write a letter to Captain Helston before
you go, and I'll take it aboard and warn him of his danger."
"Yes, yes; we ought to do that," faltered Ho Ming, already trembling at
the prospect of interviewing the Chief of Police, and sat down to write
a letter, whilst A Tsi went away to change his butler's clothes for some
of his master's.
With the letter in his pocket, A Tsi hired a chair with four sturdy
coolies, and was soon carried down to Murray Pier, off which the little
squadron was now at anchor, and, taking a _sampan_, pulled alongside the
_Laird_.
*CHAPTER IX*
*Captain Helston Wounded*
Ping Sang Kidnapped--Cummins gives Advice--A Narrow
Escape--Helston's Fears--A Futile Search--An Exchange of
Prisoners
_The Narrative is continued by Dr. Fox_
We arrived at Hong-Kong on the afternoon of December 22, after an
uneventful voyage from Singapore, and received permission to moor at
Admiralty buoys.
Helston expected Ping Sang to come aboard immediately, and was rather
upset that he did not appear. He is still very nervous and irritable,
and the chilly evening made him complain again of his rheumatism, though
he certainly seems much improved in health and spirits since he shook
off the Patagonian destroyers, and has, so far, brought his ships in
safety.
He and I were smoking in his after-cabin, and making up our minds as to
whether we would wait any longer for Ping Sang or go ashore, dine at the
Club, and afterwards try and find the old gentleman, when Pritchard, the
officer of the watch, brought down a letter.
Helston hastily tore it open. I saw at once that it contained bad news,
but he handed it to me without saying a word, and rang for the
quarter-master to bring down the messenger.
The letter was from a Mr. Ho Ming, of whom we had never heard.
"DEAR CAPTAIN HELSTON,
"I do not know what to say. My comprador brings you this, and you may
trust him. His name is A Tsi. He knows all. You are in the greatest
danger. Mr. Ping Sang has been thrown into prison this afternoon, and
there is a fearful conspiracy to sink your ships. In great haste and
distress,
"Yours respectfully,
"HO MING."
Hardly had I read it before the bearer of the letter was shown in--an
honest-looking Chinaman, not marked by small-pox. He appeared
exhausted, was much scratched about the face and hands, and I saw that a
patch of blood had soaked through the right sleeve of his silk coat.
He told his story in a very direct, straightforward manner, and would
not be disturbed in the telling of it, although Helston kept constantly
asking him unnecessary questions, wanting to know the end of the yarn
before he had barely started. I admired him for his pertinacity--though
I generally detest Chinamen--and for his pluck, because he was evidently
almost on the point of collapsing. In fact his legs nearly gave way
under him several times, and at last I pushed a chair forward and made
him sit down.
Helston seemed somewhat relieved when the story had been told, for, as a
matter of fact, there was little enough evidence of immediate danger,
and the thought of Ping Sang the sybarite shut up in jail as a common
thief was somewhat amusing.
Hardly had he finished, though, before Pritchard came down from the
quarter-deck followed by a native who was one of the tallest I have ever
seen, and as thin as a lath. He was in an extremely excited condition,
flopped down on a chair, said his name was Ho Ming, and began wringing
his hands.
"Mr. Ping Sang has disappeared," he broke out; "gone, no one knows
where. I go see Chief of Police and tell him who Ping Sang is. He
perfectly satisfied if I will stand bail. Telephones to Aberdeen police
station to have him sent up. They reply, 'The master of the man
arrested this afternoon withdrew the charge and has taken him away'.
What shall we do? What shall we do?"
He was in a state of most intense alarm, pitiful to see, even in a
Chinaman.
"Phew!" ejaculated Helston, "that makes it more serious. Did they know
where he had gone?"
"I no wait," whined Ho Ming. "I come to you quickly."
There was silence for some seconds whilst Helston and I looked at each
other, for if Ping Sang had actually been kidnapped by this scoundrel of
an Englishman, it was a most disastrous event for our expedition,
because he was the head and brains of the Trading Association, and it
was through him, and by means of his enormous credit throughout China,
that the heavy expenses of the squadron had to be met.
Without him it was almost impossible to move, as I well knew that the
funds with which Helston had in the first instance been supplied were
well-nigh exhausted.
"See what Cummins has to say about it!" we both suggested, breaking the
silence.
Cummins was the Commander of the _Laird_, and, even in the few months
the ship had been in commission, had become the one man relied upon in
every emergency either for advice or action. Short of stature, with a
little thin body and very sloping shoulders, his head looked too big for
his body and his long thin nose too big for his head. It was only when
he talked, which he seldom did, that his dreamy grey eyes commenced to
light up, and then they had the most humorous twinkle in the world. He
was a great mathematician, had been a torpedo lieutenant, and was taken
for a dreamy philosopher till you saw those twinkling eyes change to
eyes of steel, and his somewhat effeminate, irresolute lips harden.
This was only when he had a big job to undertake or a weighty decision
to make.
He sauntered in, dressed as usual, without regard to appearance, in an
old ill-fitting monkey jacket, the pockets of which had been roughly
stitched at the sides, for he always had his hands in them and wore them
out rapidly. He was chewing his usual wooden toothpick, biting off
little pieces, which he carefully put in his left-hand pocket, whilst he
carried a store of new ones in the right-hand one.
When he did speak he always commenced with a silly little chuckle which
was distinctly irritating--to me at any rate.
He seemed vaguely amused at the presence of the two Chinese, and at the
details of the crisis which Helston recounted to him.
"What do you advise?" asked Helston, biting his words, as he always does
when excited. "Whatever we do we must do quickly."
"Heugh! heugh! heugh!" chuckled Cummins, selecting a fresh toothpick
from his pocket, "I should give that cove some brandy first of all,"
pointing to A Tsi, who was looking pretty ill, and he smiled blandly at
us, wandered off to a corner of the cabin where Helston kept his cigars,
and lighted one, whilst a servant brought the drink and turned on the
electric light, for by this time it had become dark.
Every now and then he gave vent to an irritating chuckle, as if
immensely amused at the whole story, whilst Helston watched him with
ill-concealed impatience, knowing that it was useless to hurry him.
Then suddenly turning round, he gave his advice:
"Communicate with the police, sir, and have Ping Sang traced. Get
search warrants issued, and search every junk leaving Hong-Kong
to-night. This Englishman has got a long start, but there is no breeze
to speak of, and if he tries to get him away to the mainland, we might
catch him if you sent the destroyers out at once. That man--the one
with the brandy--would possibly recognize the junk. Send him with
Parker ('No. 3'); he's the smartest of the three, and will probably get
away first. I will go up and make the necessary signals, and have their
searchlights sent over from the _Sylvia_. They may be able to get away
in an hour."
Without waiting for Helston's "All right, Cummins, you carry on," he
sauntered up on deck, and we heard him singing out for the signalman;
and then, putting his head down the skylight, he chuckled; "Heugh!
heugh! heugh! You need have no fear for your Chinese friend, sir; they
won't hurt a hair of his head. They'll want to exchange him for that
rascal Hopkins."
"Bless my soul, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Helston, much
relieved; "I never thought of that!"
The Skipper's galley being called away, he and I went ashore, taking Ho
Ming with us.
We landed at Murray Pier, and had to push through a crowd of curious
Chinamen.
Helston clutched my arm and whispered excitedly: "There are some of
those brutes who shadowed me in London. Get out of this quickly, old
chap!" I thought he was probably mistaken, and put it down to his
nervousness, but when we got into rickshaws and were driven rapidly up
the street, I could swear that several detached themselves from the
crowd and followed us in the dark shadows of the trees on either side.
However, there was no trace of them when we reached the main road.
By a stroke of luck we found the Chief of Police at Headquarters, and he
telephoned to Aberdeen for more information.
Ping Sang had been discharged two hours ago, and was taken aboard the
Amoy junks, one of which was just then sailing.
He listened impatiently whilst the Chief of Police spoke through the
telephone.
"Has she left the harbour?" ... "Well, can't you follow her?" ... "How
about the steam-boat?" ...
"She is already out of the harbour," he said, turning to us and hooking
up the telephone-receiver, "and their steam-boat is under repairs and
they cannot stop her. I'll send one of our patrol boats from here to
cut her off."
"My destroyers must be ready by this time," interposed Helston, "and if
you will make out search warrants, I'll catch her before she can get
across to the mainland."
"The warrants would take some time," answered the official, "and I
should have to see the Governor. The patrol boat shall get away
immediately."
But for once Helston made up his mind. "Warrants or no warrants, I'll
search every junk under way to-night," he said, and strode impatiently
out of the room.
"I don't care what you do, outside the harbour limits," said the Chief
of Police to me as I followed Helston; "and it's a very dark night, and
no one will be any the wiser."
Ho Ming coming with us, we went down to the Victoria Hotel, and after
some difficulty--for all we knew of the Englishman was that he walked
with a limp--found that he had not returned in time for dinner, as was
his custom.
Coming back from the hotel, I several times thought I could hear the
pattering of soft feet behind me, though I could see no one. To reach
Murray Pier, however, we had to go round the cricket ground, and as we
passed along the front of it I saw two shadowy figures dart across to
the trees which bordered the road at the side, and it struck me
immediately that, if they meant any mischief, they might head us off
there.
With a sudden inspiration, I sang out to Helston, who was ahead of me,
"Race you to the pier for a dollar, old chap!" and called to my coolie,
"Fi tee, fi tee! You beatee him fellow lickshaw, half dollah can do."
This was enough for the sporting coolies, and they raced like mad things
round the corner and down the dark road.
It was lucky we were going so fast, because as we came abreast the one
electric light in the road, two pistol shots rang out from the shadows
under the trees and then a third. One splintered through the woodwork
of Helston's rickshaw, and both our rickshaw coolies, with a yell of
fright, dropped their handles, and fled for their lives. Helston tumbled
head-foremost into the road at the sudden stop, though I was just able
to save myself, and turning, saw a Chinaman within two yards of me
levelling a pistol straight at Helston. I struck at him with my heavy
malacca stick, and caught him on the wrist just as he fired again, the
pistol rolling into the mud.
[Illustration: I STRUCK AT HIM WITH MY HEAVY MALACCA STICK]